The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 155: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SAILING WITH MORGAN. The Isle of Cows lay a good four hundred miles to the southward, and it was near four days till we raised the peak and found our consorts lying in the roadstead. All the crews were given leave to go ashore, and here 'I first saw the bucca- neer as [ was fated to know him in the future. Rioting, drinking, and carous- ing were the rule and not the excep- tion. A barrel of rum was broached by our crew, and each man on landing was handed a great pewter mug filled with the potent liquor. It mounted to my brain, and I coughed and spluttered and nearly strangled before [ got it down. A great, burly fellow slapped me upon the back with his naked cutlas as he shouted: ‘“ No milk, lad! No milk! Not even in the Isle of Cows! Drink!” And he pushed the refilled cup under my nose. I shoved it aside with a laugh and passed on, heedless of the curses and threats that followed me. “Do not answer him,” said Oakes, as he saw my hand drop to my sword- hilt. “If you fight, we must fight them all, and discord ashore may mean being shot aboard ship. There goes the blue peter and the boats are put- ting off. Come on with me.” The blue peter meant immediate de- parture, so the crews were sent hur- riedly aboard, and we weighed anchor again and made for the open sea. Hardly were we clear of the land when word was passed, “ All hands aft,” and in response the ship’s com- pany fell in below the break of the poop. It was a rough-looking and most vil- lainous assemblage that waited for the captain, and he evidently noted it as he stood above them, swinging to and ~ fro with the roll of the ship. “Well, lads! Do you want to know where we go?” “Aye, aye, sir!” “ Yes, sit, let us have it!” ‘‘ No matter, so it is ‘ pieces of eight’! “A fair fight first, and 857 then to play shove-groat with Spanish doubloons.”’ * Porto Bello,” stopped. A silence fell along the entire deck. Then a murmur of disapproval swept fore and aft among the men. Porto Bello was the strongest town on the whole east coast and was protected by five forts. It was the port of departure for the he said shortly and plate-fleets that loaded there with bul- — lion and specie brought overland by mule-train from Panama, and it was indeed a daredevil adventure. = We failed at Nata,” shouted a voice. “ How, then, can we take Porto Bello?” “How? ” Hetherington waked into life, and his eyes seemed to spit fire. ‘By obeying orders, man! Pike and cutlas, with English hands to drive them, can take any walls that Spain has ever builded. We did fail at Nata because we were a mixed crew and because you did not back up your leaders. We will take Porto Bello, with our six hundred men, and each man shall have a royal share. Are you afraid?” A roar of denial burst from the crew, and, to do them justice, that motley gathering feared not God, man, nor devil. Porto Bello lay about seven hundred miles to the southwest, and each day I noted with increasing interest the distance that was pricked off on the chart as the result of the day’s run. It was on the fifth day that Captain Hetherington laid down the compasses and sat back upon his stool. He had just come from the deck with his reck- oning and had plotted it roughly on his map. “To-night,” he said, half to him- self and half to me—“ to-night we will raise the land, Upholme. See what is wanted.” The dull thunder of a gun from Morgan’s ship rolled across the water to us. The leader’s ship was flying the signal for council, and so I reported it. : Gomichbooks (E()